We Will Not Forget
by Aloneinthelabyrinth
Summary: In memory of the demigods who died in the events leading up to and during the Battle of Manhattan. They will not be forgotten.


**We Will Not Forget**

**Disclaimer: Alas, I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians.**

**Set after The Last Olympian but before the Heroes of Olympus. **

**R.I.P to all the soldiers in real life who have fought and died. We will not forget.**

* * *

Along with his Happy Meal, Nico sat down at the graveyard. He started to eat his nuggets as he stared absently into the distance. Only one minute till 11 o'clock.

He was never much for camp traditions, he avoided both camps; Greek and Roman. Socialising and people weren't his expertise. But he decided to join the Greek Camp tradition for today. Although it was more of a new thing than a tradition.

On the 11th hour of the 11th day or the 11th month, Luke Castellan was born and being the Saviour of Olympus, it was decided that the demigods would remember the heroes who died in the events leading up to and the battle of Manhattan on that day.

And one of those heroes happened to be Nico di Angelo's sister, Bianca.

Inside it felt as if a dagger was wrenched in his heart. Bianca was gone now and had no memory of Nico. She was living in the present in a new body while Nico was reminiscing the past. But soon for two minutes Nico would be allowed to remember without feeling guilty.

The McDonalds was just a recollection for when he tried to raise his sister from the dead, and it just reminded him of Bianca. So bringing a Happy Meal seemed like the right thing to do. Plus it tasted nice.

Nico glanced at his watch again. 15 seconds to 11 o'clock.

Along with holding grudges, Nico had trouble letting go. Whether it was his mother or his sister, or even the little Hades figurine his sister had died getting him, Nico struggled to say goodbye.

And in those two silent minutes, with his eyes closed trying to stop the tears he remembered Bianca. Her olive skin tone, and her smile exactly like their mother's, her silky dark hair and the way she chewed it when she was anxious or nervous and the way she hid herself with a hat to draw attention away from herself. How she always sat on the side lines and allowed someone else to shine. Nico wouldn't let those little things slip out of his mind.

Part of Nico was slightly resentful, there was still the way she had left him for a group of people she hardly knew and dumped her responsibilities on Percy. And the way she had disappeared without a goodbye. But Nico still wouldn't have let go, not even with a goodbye.

The new Bianca was probably a few months old, living peacefully in her new life without any worries, and just being a content baby. And there was no Nico to look after. No Nico to be a burden.

Yet Nico loved her endlessly even though she's forgotten everything.

He started to open his eyes and sobbed his breath getting caught up in his throat. Why did she have to leave? He managed to cling to her when she was the Underworld, but now he could only cling onto what was left of her.

Nico didn't blame Percy anymore but his 10 year old self. If he wasn't as irritating or as obsessed with Mythomagic she may have decided to stay and not leave. And perhaps Bianca would be next to him right now, her hand over his shoulder, smiling their mother's smile, saying it will be alright. And Nico wanted his big sister to make everything alright.

He wrapped his arms around his knees making his bony frame as small as possible, he felt insignificant, just another teenage boy who screwed up.

If it was worth anything, Nico promised to the Gods above he would learn from his mistakes. He had to be a good brother to Hazel now, he had a second chance. And he knew Bianca would be proud of him.

And for once, the King of the Dead said goodbye and he felt more alone than ever.

* * *

Percy decided to remember Ethan Nakamura in those two minutes. He could have chosen anyone to remember or as many people as he wished, but he focused his thoughts on Ethan.

Ethan was never the main hero, Luke was given that role. Only a few people in the Camp even remembered Ethan's name. And Percy thought he was even braver than Heracles, and everyone seemed to remember Heracles' name. It took a lot of courage to face Kronos and to sacrifice an eye for fairness.

The eye-patched hero would just be a meaningless name in a few years and Percy knew there was nothing to prevent that.

Perhaps Ethan wouldn't get the fame and glory of the hero, but he managed to get his dying wish. Equality for the cabins. The camp was thriving with cabins dedicated to Hades, Iris, Hypnos, Nike, Hebe, Tyche, Hecate and Nemesis.

Percy wondered if Ethan knew he ever had any siblings. The Nemesis already had 7 demigod inhabitants and counting. Maybe if Ethan knew he wasn't alone, things would have been different. The total in the Nemesis cabin would have been eight.

Percy needed to suggest counselling for demigods; maybe his mom could be the main therapist or something. Sally Jackson would always be the best at not making people feel alone.

However for some heroes help was too late.

Out of his cabin window he could see a flash of flaming red hair. At first he thought it was Rachel but it couldn't be her since she was busy at her new private school. Also the face wasn't right, it was rounder and the teeth looked more crooked compared to Rachel's slender face and straight teeth.

_Nancy Bobofit._

Percy had no idea, how she got into camp, nor did he necessarily want to know, however one thing was certain; he was going to get her out of camp.

Percy grabbed Riptide and uncapped the pen, unleashing it into full sword mode. He didn't need to use a sword to attack Nancy but the sight of a sword usually sent a mortal running to their mummy.

Nancy didn't flinch, different to what Percy expected, and continued to stare at him. And the most fascinating thing was the stare wasn't cruel unlike Percy's twelve year old self remembered. There was warmth in her brown eyes, and there was no look of hatred, more a look of grudging admiration.

Percy had no idea what to do, so he just did what any respectable demigod would do. He charged at Nancy Bobofit.

As soon as he was outside cabin three, she had disappeared, there was no trace Percy's old nemesis was ever here.

_Nemesis_. Gods Percy could forget things.

_Nemesis is usually in the form of someone who's treated you unfairly. _Annabeth's words hovered in his mind. Of course she would be in the form on Nancy Bobofit.

Percy had no idea what Nemesis' intention was and probably would never know, it was difficult to understand what Gods were doing. However, for the two minutes Percy hoped she was remembering her son too.

* * *

85 days since the Battle of Manhattan ended. 2,040 hours ago the gods had become the victors. 122,400 minutes previously Luke Castellan had made the decision that Olympus will preserve by one single choice.

And two minutes to remember that.

Of course, Annabeth wasn't satisfied that only two minutes were remembered for those who fell, they deserved everyone to remember the sacrifices they made, they deserved to be recognised, everyone from Charles Beckendorf to Luke Castellan . The demigods, the naiads, the satyrs, the Hunters of Artemis they all deserved not to be worthless names in a few years.

Being the official architect of Olympus, in the two minutes of silence, she was hunched over some blue prints. She was drawing a monument with a hero, with a face not relating to anyone in particular and names would be carved on over the statue for everyone. Those who fought and survived and those who fought and died.

A quote which Annabeth had chosen carefully would be on the plaque beneath the hero, where Aristotle's words would be carved in.

"_The beauty of the soul shines out when a man bears with composure one heavy mischance after another, not because he does not feel them, but because he is a man of high and heroic temper"_

One person whose name Annabeth had trouble writing was Luke Castellan, she was tempting just to have it carved over the whole of Olympus, or perhaps make the face look relatively like Luke's – scar and all.

However she couldn't bring herself to do that, she didn't feel she could do his name justice let alone draw his face fittingly. Maybe she'd ask Rachel for help when she returns to camp for Christmas. She was a lot more artistic than Annabeth.

Some people still viewed Luke as a traitor but they wouldn't voice their opinion unless they wanted to feel the wrath of Percy and Annabeth. As far as Annabeth was concerned, Luke Castellan was a hero. Mistakes were made and Luke fell in the wrong side, but what was most important was that in the end he got up again and fought.

Luke Castellan wasn't just a hero, to Annabeth he was a brother. A brother who saved an eight year old girl on the run, someone who Annabeth trusted with the world until a certain point, someone who inspired Annabeth to be who she is now. And Annabeth had to thank Luke for that.

Meanwhile, Annabeth found herself slowly falling in love with him. First it was admiration, than a mere crush, then heart breaking love and in the end she found it more sibling love more than romantic.

Perhaps Luke was now being reborn, aiming for the highest; Annabeth wouldn't be surprised if he tried. Luke was ambitious, which did result in him uniting with Kronos. However Annabeth always admired Luke's travail ethic.

On the face of the monument Annabeth drew a scar. It now looked like a statue with a scar incredibly like Luke Castellan. If anyone asked Annabeth would say it represents that the past does not refine the present or the future. Scars are just reminders of the past.

Annabeth was proud she managed to fit a tribute to Luke in the monument, even if she had to represent it with a scar.

After all Luke was her first love.

* * *

Nyssa was busy hammering away at her latest invention; the transparent toaster. But due to the curse she was covered in several Band-Aids – some of them sparkly and others plain - and welts across her hands and bruises on every limb on Nyssa's body. As well as the toaster failing to work.

Only one person could fix the curse of the Hephaestus cabin and that person was dead.

"Guys, the two minutes started in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1," Jake yelled, silencing the sound of hammers, drills and demigods cursing.

Nyssa didn't need two minutes to remember Beckendorf; his presence would always be existent. The most successful inventions were always his and they were dotted around the workshop. For the Hephaestus cabin Beckendorf was viewed as a God as much as the other Olympians.

And the most amazing thing Beckendorf's love wasn't machinery like the others in the Hephaestus' cabin, but Silena Beauregard.

Nyssa remembered the time she walked in on the two:

_The cabin was buzzing in the workshop there were weapons to build, fix and invent for the final battle against Kronos. Everyone was taking part, including eight year old Harley, everyone except the councillor and the most talented blacksmith – Beckendorf._

_Jake, being Beckendorf's second, suggested Nyssa should return to the cabin pick up a few spare parts and in the meantime in Jake's exact phrasing – 'Drag Beckendorf's ass up here'. Nyssa was a stickler for following orders._

_She didn't have to look far to find Beckendorf._

_As soon as she swung the cabin door open, two figures were a mangled together like abstract art and when she turned on the light she saw the bodies belonging to the head councillor and Silena. Silena's cheeks were rouged and Beckendorf had the biggest smile on his face._

_Nyssa couldn't remember the last time he smiled like that._

"_Beckendorf?" Nyssa asked trying to avoid contact with both of the demigods. She wasn't sure why she was asking it was him, it was obvious. Perhaps the blacksmith's children were so bad with living life forms she was just shocked._

"_Nyssa," Beckendorf nodded._

"_You need to be in the workshop pronto," Nyssa said while turning to leave the cabin, forgetting the tools she was supposed to collect._

"_Sure, give me a sec?" _

_A few minutes after Nyssa had returned to the workshop Beckendorf walked in. He had lost the smile and confidence he managed to have when he was with Silena, and he returned to the Beckendorf that the Hephaestus cabin knew; quiet and hardworking._

_But he had a glow around him and his permanent scowl looked somewhat friendly and the spring in his step was obvious. He returned to his project which was a shield Annabeth had ordered him to make._

"_You could have at least used the tunnels," Nyssa whispered as she walked over to collect a wrench._

"_Oh for the love of Hephaestus shut up Nyssa," Beckendorf grumbled._

_And that was how the rule of no two demigods of the opposite sex who didn't have the dame godly parentage weren't allowed to be in the same cabin commenced._

During that memory a single tear streaked Nyssa's cheek. The last time she had cried was eleven years ago when she had broken her leg. And then the pain was more bearable than what she felt now.

The Hephaestus cabin was a machine and it was missing the most important gear - Charles Beckendorf.

* * *

Lacy wished Drew would just shut up. It was the two minutes of the silence and Drew was describing her date with Sherman aloud to no one in particular. And the looks Drew was receiving right now, it seemed as if the whole cabin wanted her to shut up.

Except no one would ever tell her unless they wanted cleaning up duty.

Drew never used to be like this. Sure, she had her moments but she was bearable when Silena was in charge. And once she even did Lacy's hair and didn't ask for a favour back. Lacy wasn't sure where she was crazed by grief, power hungry or something completely different. But she wasn't the Drew Tanaka Lacy knew before the Battle of Manhattan.

Lacy squeezed her eyes shut, trying to drown out the sound of Drew's voice and remembered Silena's face. The high cheek bones, the dark blue eyes and the glossy black hair. Lacy longed to look like her and not some awkward looking girl with pigtails and braces.

Lacy didn't just wish to look like her, she wanted to be her. Silena may have made mistakes, but she was gentle and caring, gave the best advice and somehow she managed to befriend Clarisse La Rue. A feat that not many people managed.

She almost didn't notice the daughter of war storming into the cabin.

"Shut it punk," Clarisse growled. Lacy had seen her fight in camp and even then she didn't look as fierce as she did now.

Drew was taken back, she was used to ordering people about not vice versa and opened her mouth to respond but no words came out. Finally, someone who could make Drew speechless.

"Are you not able to respect those who are dead? Because punk I can give you a lesson on that," Clarisse shouted, her face and neck reddening.

"I, uh, well," Drew stammered. Lacy had never seen Drew stammer before.

"Guess what? I don't care about your excuses princess. Now your cabin is going to have an extra two minutes of silence. And don't any of you punks try speaking. Any problems?"

Drew would have charmspoke anyone at this point, except Clarisse La Rue who was holding _Maimer _which was flickering with deadly electricity mirroring her eyes.

She shook her head her eyes focused on the floor. Lacy guessed if she tried to answer back Clarisse would have given Drew a free visit to Silena.

Clarisse sat on one of the bunks her eyes scanning across the room, slightly softening when they fell upon Silena's old bunk, but she still looked lethal enough to murder.

One time when Lacy was eleven she asked why Silena was friends with Clarisse. To Lacy it didn't make sense, she viewed Silena as beautiful and kind and Clarisse as the polar opposite. To that Silena replied with, 'Clarisse can be beautiful – inside and out'.

Lacy never saw what Silena did in Clarisse until now. Her face was sweaty and blood red, her hair was stringy and clung to her face and she lacked the femininity unlike the Aphrodite female campers, but as far as Lacy was concerned she was the most beautiful person in the room. Not drew with her perfect eyeliner, full lips and heart shaped face, or the other girls with dainty features but Clarisse La Rue daughter of Ares.

* * *

Thalia's breaths came out in heavy pants. Along with the Hunters she had spent the morning with drakons and dragons. Thalia admitted she had better days, but she loved the thrill chasing the monsters and the challenge the harder the monster.

Artemis was at gathering in Olympus, therefore Thalia was temporarily in charge being the new lieutenant. However, it wasn't always like that, for centuries Artemis had relied on Zoë Nightshade to be her second in command.

Thalia understood she had a lot of expectations to uphold, despite the personality clash between the two, when they first met when Thalia was with Luke, Annabeth and Grover to her death, they struggled to agree on anything, and she respected Zoë, a lot.

Of course the constant bickering between the two made the quest they went on rather difficult. However, if it was any consolation to Zoë, her valour had persuaded Thalia to join the Hunters when she was offered.

And Thalia was suddenly reminded by the death of the old lieutenant:

_She was crying, she could taste the saltiness of her tears, her body stiff and upright the cause of grief. Percy pulled Thalia back before she was impaled by javelins thrown by the enemy. Thalia barely heard the curses Atlas was screaming at them._

"_Artemis!" Percy yelled._

_Zoë was lying in the goddess' arms. She was breathing and her eyes were open, but her rich copper skin was becoming paler, and the permanent silver glow she had around her was flicker. Thalia wasn't listening to Percy's conversation. She was distracted by the big gaping wound in Zoë's side._

"_The stars," Zoë murmured. "I cannot see them."_

_And later on, in a beautiful silver chariot Percy asked for Zoë to be healed._

_Artemis, looking trouble replied, "Life is a fragile thing, Percy. If the Fates will the string to be cut, there is little I can do about it. But I can try."_

_Artemis firmly placed her hand on Zoë's side, but before she could_ _Zoë gripped her wrist, "Have I… served thee well?"_

"_With great honour," Artemis replied softly. "The finest of my attendants."_

_Zoë's face relaxed, "Rest. At last."_

"_I can try to heal the poison, my brave one."_

_Zoë stared at Thalia right in the eyes and weakly grasped her hand, "I am sorry we argued, we could have been sisters."_

"_It's my fault," Thalia said, blinking hard, "You were right about Luke, about heroes, men – everything."_

_Zoë talked to Percy about how he was different that most male heroes and then she shuddered her breath becoming sharper._

"_Stars," she whispered. "I can see the stars, my lady." _

_A tear trickled down Artemis cheek. "Yes, my brave one. They are beautiful tonight."_

"_Stars," Zoë repeated. Her eyes fixed on the night sky. And her body remained still, not ever moving again. _

_Thalia lowered her head, while Annabeth beside her gulped a sob, Percy watched with a mixture of sadness and fascination. And in that moment Zoë Nightshade started to live forever in the stars._

And Thalia swore even in the bright light of day she could still see the constellation of Zoë Nightshade.

* * *

There were two councillors in charge of the Apollo cabin that Will Solace remembered before he was given the role; Lee Fletcher and Michael Yew, both died in battle.

Despite both being excellent archers, they were also talented in healing and music. Lee playing the guitar and Michael on the saxophone.

The Apollo cabin would pay tribute towards the fallen councillors and the other members of the cabin. And like always they would express themselves through music.

The cabin was soundproof; Will had no idea how long they were soundproof but as Apollo was one of the loudest cabins, the Ares being just as loud with the arguments and the landmines, it being soundproof was a clever idea.

So while the rest of the camp would be silent, the Apollo cabin would play their heart out channelling everything, the sorrow and the energy through their instruments. Music could be just as powerful as silence. However Will was determined to make it even more powerful.

Will wouldn't play the piano as he usually did, but instead he would conduct the whole piece, the Apollo children being his orchestra.

There were 16 of them in total, excluding Will, ranging from the age of 8 to 19, from tall to short, blonde to brunette, making them one of the biggest cabins. And every single one of them played a different musical instrument.

Dead on 11 o'clock, Will nodded at Viola who started to play the flute on Will's command. It was an eerie soft sound, not usually the joyful music that Will associated with the flute.

A violin and a cello joined the single flute, the sound becoming more sudden and sharp losing the delicateness of the flute alone and then quietly, there was the thudding beat of the drum, gradually the noise started to increase so the drum was at its full dynamics.

Other instruments joined until they were all layered to sound powerful. Will had crafted it carefully to be not disorder mess but each instrument vital, just as each member of the Apollo cabin was essential.

The floor was vibrating to the beat of the melody and Will's head was filled with nothing except music and memories of the fallen heroes. Perhaps if the cabin wasn't soundproof the whole of New York could hear the music.

If Lee or Michael were still here, would they compose it differently more soft and delicate to represent death or would they have done it similarly as powerful as Will's composition the drum thundering above all. Because to Will that was what the Apollo cabin was about, being animated, dynamic and powerful.

Will wondered if the underworld could hear the rhythm, the beat of the drumming the strumming of the guitar. And Will honestly hoped that they could because even the dead enjoy music.

At the end, exactly two minutes after the start, the Apollo cabin was silent for a moment until it erupted with cheers and laughter, because as far as they were concerned they had done Michael, Lee and any past member of the Apollo cabin proud.

* * *

Pollux looked in the mirror. Sometimes when he looked in the mirror he could pick out the similarities between him and his late brother, Castor.

Pollux's eyes were darker, his lips slightly thinner, his hair had less curls and he had a chicken pox scar right above his left eyebrow. Most people wouldn't notice those things but being a twin Pollux had searched long and hard for some individuality. But now he would accept being exactly like Castor if he was right next to him. Castor was always the better person and Pollux was glad to be in his shadow.

Pollux had done his best to avenge Castor in the battle of Manhattan and part of him wanted to die so he could visit his brother again. He craved to hear the voice that was so similar to his, yet he was alone and the voice was just a faint memory.

In Pollux's opinion it felt as if it he was the one the failed in battle. Castor had fought and sacrificed himself in battle and was no doubt enjoying himself in Elysium, whereas Pollux was just plain miserable in Cabin 12.

For the Party's God cabin it was quiet. In fact for any cabin it was quiet. The only company Pollux had was several diet coke cans- some drained, some full, empty bunks and Pollux's sword.

Pollux started at the reflection in front of him. He imagined that the mirror showed lighter eyes, fuller lips, curlier hair and no chicken pox scars to form the image of Castor. Yet Castor was in the same defeated stance, the shoulders hunched forward and the chin pointing to the ground as Pollux.

Most demigods would spend the minutes in silence, but not Pollux. The Dionysus cabin had been too quiet for too long, it needed life and energy and conversation.

Pollux started to have a conversation, first him asking questions about Castor's life in the underworld, and then replying as if he was Castor. Most people would think he was insane, Pollux wasn't denying the madness, but it was just nice to talk.

Castor's responses just flowed out of him, as if his brother possessed him. Pollux was pleased to say he managed to capture the slightly sarcastic tone Castor had compared to Pollux's completely serious monotone.

Pollux knew two minutes were over but he still continued to talk to his reflection. It felt as if it was oxygen and he wasn't able to survive without it. He needed to have this imaginary conversation with Castor.

Finally, Pollux's conversation came to an end. It hurt to stop it there was so much Pollux had left out – like whether Castor had found a girl or the what drinks were there, but he knew those questions were for Castor himself and he would ask when he finally joined him.

Pollux took one last yearning look at his slightly changed reflection, "We'll continue this next year brother."

And he was determined to keep that promise, no matter what the Fates throw at him as Castor was and will always be his twin brother. And Pollux was going to live for the both of them.

* * *

**Most of the old characters like Bianca and Luke are fading in the background as new characters, which I adore, are becoming more popular. And this was just a little oneshot to remind everyone how essential they were to PJATO**


End file.
